


Careful and Stupid

by oneatatime



Category: Power Rangers Dino Thunder
Genre: M/M, also shown broadly in flashback, past dubcon mentioned broadly in current day stuff, the other four Rangers and Hayley appear a little here and there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22141465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneatatime/pseuds/oneatatime
Summary: Tommy Oliver and Anton Mercer, after everything's over.
Relationships: Anton Mercer | Mesogog/Tommy Oliver
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12
Collections: Alpha's Magical Fic Exchange 2019





	Careful and Stupid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [borrowedphrases](https://archiveofourown.org/users/borrowedphrases/gifts).



Now…  
22 January 2005

Coffee, right? Coffee was easy. Coffee was good. It was impersonal and normal enough to not be a big deal, and buying Anton’s favourite brand, Dark Sonata, made it personal enough to show that he still cared about Anton. Because caring about someone personally made it personal. Sure. Yeah. Sounded good. 

(Tommy’s internal Hayley made a snarky comment about how rare it was for him to overthink.) 

So they’d start with coffee, and probably talk about what happened, and maybe move further into things between the two of them in time. Maybe not even today. 

“Trent said you told him we were friends,” Anton observed. 

Or maybe they’d get onto that immediately. 

Tommy twitched.

It wasn’t wrong, of course it wasn’t, but there were a crapton of layers underneath that simple statement. And he’d never been great at navigating emotional depths. 

Anton sat on one of the black leather stools at the kitchen island. Hands clasped in front of him on the black marble counter, wearing one of his thousand dollar suits, with every hair in place. Like he was at some kind of business meeting. He’d always been skilled at that. Putting up a good front.

Tommy wore faded blue jeans with a patch over the back of one thigh, a black t-shirt, and Batman socks. Wasn’t even wearing shoes. Comfortable. No good front. 

“We were friends, yeah,” Tommy said cautiously, turning back to the coffeepot. It binged at him, giving him a distraction. He didn’t want to expect anything more than Anton was offering. He didn’t want to have this conversation, because it could hurt Anton. (He needed to have this conversation.) 

“I can understand why you’d put it in the past tense.” 

“At that point, I kind of thought we weren’t, any more,” Tommy said earnestly to his cupboard. He opened it, reaching for two cups in swirls of blue. 

A quiet chuckle. “I suppose we weren’t, given I tried to kill you more than once.” 

Tommy snorted at that. He ignored the pain he could hear underneath, and just responded to the attempt at good humour. “Takes more than that to slow me down. I was. . .”

And this was where it got murky. 

“You were more hurt by me telling Trent that we were in the past, than by me actually attempting to murder you,” Anton said slowly. 

Tommy poured, and turned with a cup in each hand. He slid one across to Anton. 

“. . .yeah. Evil is evil, y’know?” A sip. The coffee was just on the bearable side of the line between hot and damaging. “I’ve been evil. Trent’s been evil. Principal Randall was evil, and it wasn’t her fault, either. I’d be the biggest hypocrite in the world to let that stop me talking to someone. Wouldn’t be here today if other people hadn’t believed in me.” 

Tommy met his eyes at last. 

Anton prompted, “But.” 

Might as well let it all out. Easier to get all your cards on the table, even when none of them could turn into a seven foot tall monster and kick your butt. Maybe especially then. “But I don’t want to expect anything more of you than an acknowledgement of what we were, and for you to understand I don’t hold any grudges. I don’t want to expect you being anything more than polite and pleasant.” 

“Mm.” Anton sipped his coffee, and made an appreciative face. Everything, every movement was still so careful. “I’m not trying to rekindle anything.” 

Ah. 

That was it, then. He could just stay polite and pleasant with Anton. A good working relationship, that’d do. He smiled at Anton sitting there on the other side of the kitchen island. 

Or, no, wait. 

Sometimes Tommy wasn’t the biggest idiot out of the two of them. 

He took the three steps required to get him on Anton’s side of the island, and he touched Anton’s shoulder. Cards. Table. “Would you like to, though? Because I would.” 

A startled flinch, and maybe a little of the façade dropped. 

“I hurt you.”

Tommy said immediately, “That wasn’t you.” 

“Perhaps not, but I was – I was aware. And it wasn’t just physical.” 

Tommy rolled his shoulders, because yeah, okay, he still had some issues from that, but he’d consented at the time. . . and it’d actually gotten a lot better since he’d figured out what had actually happened. “Still not you.” 

“And yet, you were still hurt.” 

“Like I haven’t hurt you?” 

“Not the same.” 

That still wasn’t a no, Tommy, get the hell away from me. In fact, Anton was leaning into the hand on his shoulder, like he hadn’t been touched for a while. 

***

Then…  
12 June 2001

“I hurt you.” 

Tommy got up from the grass, grinning. “A little, and it’s good. You’re catching on fast. Again.” 

He let Anton set himself. The man looked good in his orange t-shirt and sweatpants, and that was weird given just how damn good he looked in a suit. Put together, not a hair out of place. This was different. He actually looked kinda like he was enjoying himself. 

Tommy came at him with a series of strikes. Not too fast. Anton was fit, and had always cared for his own health pretty much the same way he’d cared for the super expensive cars he liked driving. But he was only learning self-defence. 

This was a fun way to spend time in between butting their heads up against design flaws in the dino tech. 

***

Now…  
7 March 2005

“He looks a lot better,” Hayley said as she reached over to correct his typing. 

Tommy nodded thanks at her. Anton sat in the corner of Hayley’s Cyberspace with Trent, and Conner. Watching something on the big TV, with four or five other kids around. Dangling off the back of the couch, or sitting on the floor. From the sounds of the cheer that just went up, and the horrified look on Kira’s face, it was something sports-related. 

“He seems happier,” Tommy said. “I think Trent being home for the weekend is helping. How about you, how’s your week been?” 

Hayley tchh’d at him. “It’s not just Trent,” she said firmly, then she let him change the subject. “I spoke to Cam on Wednesday. We’re going to co-write these coding classes for Rangers. Help with career options once they’re done with Ranger work. Even the repeat offenders like you don’t do it forever.” 

“That’s true, and that sounds awesome. Well done! I’m a little old for changing my career, but the newer ones might want to.” 

“Yes, you’re ancient,” Hayley said solemnly. 

He checked the screen one last time, then turned to her with his hands spread out, eyebrows up inquiringly. She checked it too, then hit ‘go’. 

The little robot on the screen proceeded to move through a jerky version of the MC Hammer dance, and Tommy crowed under his breath. 

“Well done, Doctor O! Next you’ll be playing Death Cheese with the rest of us.” 

Ethan’s hands were moving so fast that they occasionally seemed to pass through each other, even though he was staring at Tommy’s screen instead of his own. Tommy shook his head. “Thanks, Ethan, but I’ll pass.” 

“Pass! PASS!” yelled Conner from the other end of the room. Another cheer went up. 

“Back in a second.” 

Hayley murmured, “Go. It’s okay.” 

Tommy strolled down to the corner, and took in Anton’s overall body language. He still had an arm around Trent, but the fingers had tightened on Trent’s shoulderblade, and his lips were a thin line. Trent did a double take when he noticed Tommy, and he nodded a tiny nod. He tapped Anton’s knee to make him look. 

“Hey, Anton? Hayley’s trying out a new muffin recipe and she could use some taste testers. You in?” 

It was the most obvious lie in all the obvious lies that he’d ever told. He’d never been good at lying. 

Anton paused for a second, but Conner turned to him and with utter seriousness said, “You don’t wanna annoy Hayley. You’d better go.” 

“Last time someone annoyed her, she changed all their online identity profiles to be of Frank the Cabbage,” Trent said. 

Anton, on his way to standing, paused with fascination. “Who-?” 

“Just don’t ask me about borscht,” Tommy told him, and he walked with Anton back up to the counter. There were in fact muffins there. Hayley was _good._

“I. . . thank you,” Anton said quietly. 

“Don’t mention it.” 

Tommy was relieved to not have to try to disentangle the whole crowds issue from the will I turn into Mesogog and hurt people issue. You could not be great about the first while the second wasn’t even a problem, after all. 

***

Then…  
9 June 2004

“Anton? It’s past midnight, are you okay?” 

“Tommy. Can we talk?” 

“Sure.” 

Anton didn’t look quite as remote as he had, that day at Hayley’s Cyberspace, and Tommy always liked giving people a chance. He didn’t know what the hell was going on, but he stood back from the door and gestured Anton inside. 

“Nice place.” 

An hour or so later, Anton came out of the bathroom, buttoning up his light blue shirt. Hair lightly damp, but back in place once more. He leaned over and pressed his lips briefly to Tommy’s hair as Tommy straightened up in the bed. (Black sheets, naturally.) 

“Leaving so soon?” 

“Work to do.” Anton flashed him a smile, which was only a baring of teeth. Much colder than when those teeth had been buried in the side of Tommy’s shoulder a few minutes earlier. 

Tommy watched him, frowning. 

“You wanted to talk. . .?”

“Later.” 

***

Now…  
28 July 2005

“Wow,” Tommy said with admiration. “Anton, he’s doing great. The lines and the colors look awesome.” 

Anton radiated pride and pleasure. “Here, you think?” 

Tommy folded his arms and gave the most satisfied of satisfied nods. Trent’s latest superhero, in blues and blacks, looked real awesome against the glasswork in Anton’s front hall. 

“Yeah. Definitely. So every new person who comes in here can see how proud you are of your son.” 

He reached out instinctively to place a palm on the center of Anton’s back. Anton froze for a fraction of a second, then leaned closer to Tommy – 

Then shifted away. 

“Thanks for helping.” 

Tommy took what he thought was probably a cue, in his own floundery way. “Happy to. You want me to stop touching you? Uh, I’ll be going, then.”

“Okay, if you need go, see you later.” 

Hadn’t answered the question. 

***

Now…  
2 July 2005

Today, it was to bring Tommy breakfast, because he was sure that he’d eaten all of Tommy’s eggs the night before. 

(He had, but Tommy still had bread for toast, and waffles, and pancake mix, and juice.) 

***

Now…  
4 July 2005

And this time, it was to present him with a giant box of assorted whiteboard markers of the highest quality. Because the ones he used in school somehow weren’t good enough. 

***

Now…  
5 July 2005

Then he asked to come over to Tommy’s to help him fix the upstairs sink. Neither of them were any good at plumbing, in spite of the book Anton had bought and the video Hayley had found online, but Anton insisted on persevering even when they were both sopping wet. 

It was –

It was pretty cute, actually. 

***

Now…  
8 July 2005

Today, Anton called him over to watch a documentary on the Mesozoic. Which they’d both already seen. And had made notes on, because the documentary maker had gotten some things laughably wrong, but to be fair most people didn’t expect the interference of intergalactic villains in Earth’s history.

It wasn’t that he _minded_ Anton wanting to see him. And if Anton only wanted to be friends, well, Tommy would cope. He liked Anton’s friendship. 

It wasn’t even that Anton had to be okay with being touched. But he obviously _wanted_ it. Tommy wasn’t about to force touch on him, because he was familiar with trauma and how it messed you up, but he badly – so badly – wished Anton could just say what he needed, what he wanted, and then leave it at that. 

If he wanted Tommy to give him a hug but then leave him alone for the next day. If he wanted to be friends. If he wanted to be, uh, romantic, whether or not things got sexual. If he needed Tommy to be around to be touched but not to initiate. 

It was coming out of fear, wasn’t it. 

Fear that he’d hurt someone. Hurt Tommy. If he let himself go. 

And – and maybe Tommy was afraid, too. Not afraid that Anton would hurt him, but afraid that Anton would get the hell out of his life again. 

Aw, crap. He was gonna have to do something about this. If it didn’t get better.

Aw, _crap._

***

Now…  
18 October 2005

This was one of his stupider plans, and his inner Hayley made a comment about how that was quite a high bar. 

Normally, Tommy wouldn’t shove his way into someone’s life if they didn’t want him. He’d make his feelings clear, but if the other person said no, then he’d back off. Because that was part of being a Ranger, that was part of being a decent human being. You listened when someone told you they don’t want you. 

This wasn’t like that, though. 

Anton wasn’t saying no to him. He just wasn’t saying yes – not with his words. Not saying no wasn’t the same as saying yes, but Anton kept turning up to see him when there was no actual need. 

Another yawn, hidden politely behind a hand. It was late and they were in his lab, Tommy on his feet, in Superman socks this time. Anton in the chair, in shirtsleeves, his one concession to how late it was. 

There was no urgency to this design; they were doing it out of interest. To see if they could figure out how to make bio-zords, with greater mental protection so they’d be a little less likely to rampage. 

Tommy stretched, one hand on the nape of his neck, as he looked at the screen. He dropped a hand on the back of Anton’s chair. “You can stay, y’know.”

Anton turned enough to look up at him, and for a moment there was such vulnerability in his tired, tired eyes that Tommy wanted to take him in his arms and never let him go. Then the shutters came down again. 

“I’d better not. No telling what I might do in my sleep.” 

“What, snore? I don’t mind if you snore. And you can have the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

“That’s not the problem. I want – no. Never mind.” 

Tommy paced, letting himself stoke his genuine irritation. He had to actually feel it if he was going to do this at all. “You don’t have to keep your stupid mouth shut! If you want something, tell me!” 

“Stop trying to push me,” Anton growled at him. “You don’t know what you’re doing.” 

“You’re using your fear as an excuse, and not knowing what I’m doing has never stopped me before,” Tommy said, one side of his mouth quirking up. Push, push, push, until it explodes in your face, right? 

Tommy wasn’t a Ranger at the moment, so he didn’t have that extra oomph to any defensive or offensive moves he made. But he still kept himself in fighting shape. Same as he always had. 

Anton was a businessman and scientist, older than Tommy. However, he’d always kept himself fit, and though that hadn’t included anything more than the very basics of self-defence, he also had the experience of being an intimidatingly strong dinosaur guy. He wouldn’t be able to bench-press a tank. Not like Mesogog. But the muscles remembered how to move. 

All this flashed through Tommy’s head when Anton burst out of his chair, when Anton’s fingers dug into his shoulders, as he shoved Tommy back against the wall. He curved into it, allowing himself to hit the wall with his shoulders. It was still hard enough to send a flash of pain across his back. Hard enough to make him oof out a lungful of air. 

Then Anton’s mouth was on his. 

Tommy made an unexpectedly loud sound of want, as his lips parted. The kiss was hungry and messy, and lasted about a week and about half a second, until Anton pulled back. 

“I hurt you.”

“Nah,” Tommy said. 

Anton took in a long, jerky breath, and didn’t let go. Tommy was happy with that. This had been risky, and Anton could’ve been halfway home by now or curled up sobbing. He peered at Tommy from three inches away. 

“I. . . I didn’t hurt you.” 

A little too much of a question in that. 

“All you did was kiss me,” Tommy agreed. The shove could be argued, but in terms of actual harm caused? None. No harm. 

Anton still looked unconvinced, so Tommy caught his eye and then nodded down at his two handed grip on Anton’s wrist. When Anton looked back up, there was a smile dawning in his eyes. 

“You were prepared to flip me.” 

“If necessary.”

“You didn’t trust me _that_ much.”

“Nope.” 

He did trust Anton more than Anton was probably comfortable with. Knew that the guy wouldn’t kill him. But he wasn’t about to let Anton even hurt him, for Anton’s sake more than his own. He knew he’d survive a bruise or a broken wrist just fine. But if Anton actually managed to bruise him, just imagining the look on Anton’s face was devastating enough. So Tommy was careful in his stupidity.

Tommy’s inner Hayley smiled at him, and made a comment about how it was about time they sorted it out. 

Anton stepped back, but he didn’t let go of Tommy’s shoulders. Tommy allowed his own grip to drop even as he half slid down the wall, in full giddy adrenaline crash mode. He took a deep breath, then grabbed Anton and dragged him down with him. 

They ended up on the floor in a sprawl of arms and legs. 

“You were trying to prove to me that I could have something I need, without hurting anyone. Without hurting you.” 

“Yeah, though it wasn’t the most well thought out plan,” Tommy said cheerfully as they sorted themselves out. They ended up side by side, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. Tommy had one knee drawn up. “Mostly I just want you to be able to say what you want, and to trust that I’ll do what you want, whether it’s to give you attention or space.” 

“Attention. Please.” 

The words came out swiftly enough to make Tommy smile. 

“Sometimes you need a break, though, right? You don’t have to spell everything out for me every time. I can see it in your face sometimes.” 

“Yes.” A deep breath, in and out. “I think I probably will for some time. It’s. . . it’s difficult.”

“Yeah, I get it. I needed a lot of alone time after it happened to me.” 

They sat there and breathed for a while. Tommy put his hand on his knee, palm up, and Anton slowly – so slowly – reached for him – 

Then made an exasperated noise under his breath, and tucked his arm around Tommy instead, tugging him close. Tommy relaxed into him with a soft sigh. 

“You have to promise me, though.”

“Anything. Uh. . . most things.” 

A rusty laugh at that. “You have to promise me that when you want space, when you want attention, you’ll let me know. You have to promise me that you’ll tell me your needs.”

Tommy’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. His. . . needs? He tried, “Huh,” and that didn’t work, so he then said, “I’m gonna have to come back to you on that one.”

Aw, hell. 

“One of my needs is to not feel as though I’m the broken one, and you’re my nurse.” 

Apparently now the floodgates were opened, Anton was going to be annoyingly articulate and leave Tommy stranded in the wilderness of _no idea what to say_ and _hey, isn’t this a crappy metaphor_. 

Tommy shook his head, nestling further into Anton. “You’ve helped me plenty in the last year. This is one of the things I wanted. Needed. We can take things slow.”

And maybe – just maybe – he did have some lingering issues from what had happened. He was stupid enough to only just acknowledge that now, but he was smart enough to actually do the acknowledging. He didn’t blame Anton for any of it, but that was the problem with getting messed up – you could rationally understand that everything was fine, and truly not hold anything against them, and still feel tense when you saw them in your bedroom. Or you could feel tense when someone – anyone - used your bathroom. 

“Slow is good,” Anton said hesitantly. 

“What is it?”

“Would you kiss me?” 

“You bet.” 

He leaned in and up, and brushed his lips across Anton’s. Carefully. He could be careful and stupid all at once. It’d always worked for him.


End file.
